


Not Much

by Silverfox



Series: Both or Neither Scenes [6]
Category: Saber Rider and the Star Sheriffs
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 23:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17212547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfox/pseuds/Silverfox
Summary: Warnings: A lot of blood, child abuse and ... well, IstarA/N: The second - well, originally third - piece I wrote for the Family prompt. Nemesis and his past with Istar.





	Not Much

-Commander Istar?- his voice was barely above a whisper. -I was told to report to you. For duty.-

-You're Nemesis?-

-Yes, Commander.-

Cold eyes looked him up and down, obviously displeased with what they saw. It was nothing new to Nemesis, though.

-You don't look like much.-

-I'm not, Commander.- The floor needed cleaning. Maybe they'd make him do that. It wasn't really a secretary's duty, but at least he felt confident that he could do it.

-I was told you were seventeen.-

-I am, Commander.-

-You don't look it.-

-No, Commander. I always was too small for my age. From birth.-

-Three years too young, and a runt at that. Just wonderful.-

-I'm sorry, Commander.- He'd have hung his head, but it couldn't really go any lower anymore.

-Whose stupid idea was it to make a runt like you be a soldier anyway?-

-Nobody's, Commander. My clan intended me for the science academy. I meant to become a doctor. But all our soldiers died or were crippled in the late wars and well, there's nobody else left. All I'm supposed to do is survive until we can get some proper new soldiers trained. I ... there is another a year above me, but he'll be more valuable when fully trained. I won't be much of a loss to the clan.-

-You realise that it is almost unheard of for an under age boy to even be allowed to join the army?-

-Yes, Commander.- He'd rather have declined the honour, though, but then his clan, one of the oldest of the old blood, would have lost its noble status. Several thousand years of history were more important than one worthless runt's life no matter how smart his teachers said he was.

-I have to say now that I have actually seen you I do not agree with that decision. You'll never amount to much.-

-No, Commander. I've always known that.-

-Very well, we'll see what we can do to keep you alive, but be aware that I cannot always keep you away from the front line. A soldier exists to fight.-

-Yes, Commander.- He had not expected to be spared.

 

He twisted and kicked blindly against the soft, worm-like body of the Th-Hone that had grabbed him. If only he had a weapon! Where had he dropped his gun? It was empty, but still hard enough to hurt the Th-Hone more than his bare fists. He couldn't remember. His head was pounding with pain from the creature's screech. Most likely it was out of reach anyway. As was the knife that was still stuck in the creature's face.

But the Th-Hone had other wounds and he clawed at them, he struggled and twisted and bit at the tentacle that was holding him even though the taste of blood made him gag and spit. It seemed to take forever for the monster to kill him and he used every moment of it to hurt it as much as he could. He knew it was useless. One could not do much harm to a Th-Hone with bare hands, but he was a soldier and it was his duty to fight, even if he'd already failed at his duty to survive for his clan's sake.

Then came a sudden hissing sound and he fell, the tentacle still wrapped around him, but somehow no longer attached to the creature.

Nemesis blinked, stood, wiped the blood out of his eyes and saw Commander Istar standing before the dead body of the Th-Hone. Istar of course still had both gun and knife in his hands. He wasn't weakling or fool enough to let go of them.

-I know, I should have held on to the knife.- he confessed to his commander.

Istar looked him up and down, eyes still aglow with blood-lust and grinning. -Why Nemesis, I do believe you have some potential after all.-

It was only when he returned to his dorm and saw first the reaction of his dorm mates and then his own face in the mirror that he understood what Istar had meant. He was soaked in Th-Hone blood through and through, his uniform, his hair, his skin. It was on his lips, in his nose and possibly still in his mouth, though he could no longer taste it.

A very long shower took care of the blood, but nothing could erase his fellow soldiers' memory of it. They stopped calling him the runt and making him fetch and carry things for them that day.

And when he arrived for work the next morning, Istar took him down to the gym.

-It is against all traditions of the Cats of War to share our training secrets with anyone outside our clan.- he said. -But you do seem to have a knack for our fighting style and in these hard times the old blood have to stand together. We cannot afford to lose your clan. Besides a weakling like you will never make much of a Cat of War, especially since you are starting the training much too late. You only need to survive, though, and that is one of the main things Cats of War do.-

Then he made Nemesis swear by every single god in the pantheon that he would never pass on what Istar would teach him.

What followed after that almost made Nemesis wish that he were still being squeezed to death by the Th-Hone. But he had a duty to his clan: To survive as long as he could so that they could get other new soldiers trained, maybe even get one or two of their members through officers' training again. This was going to help him do that and so he did his best to please Istar and learn all he could.

He'd never dreamed of being thought worthy of any kind of elite training and the Cats of War were the best of the best. But he didn't actually think of himself as a Cat, not until the day Istar took him home and told him to get in line with the other trainees, not until the first time he fought one of Istar's own children - and won.

He didn't think even Istar had expected that. Istar's children were his possible successors as Weapons Master of House Elhessar after all. They'd been trained as Cats of War almost from the moment they could walk. He could not possibly be better than any of them. No, most likely Jean Claude had merely underestimated him and not given it his best effort. Nemesis didn't envy him the beating Istar gave him as punishment, though.

It was strange that Jean Claude didn't resent him for it, but apparently being an actual active soldier, despite still being under age, made him some kind of hero to the older boy.

 

-You don't have to win this.- Istar told him. -Every chosen clan has put forth their very best candidate for this and only one can become His Nastiness. All of them are much older and most a lot higher ranking than you. Nobody will think the worse of you, even if you should lose in the very first round.-

-I never asked for this.- Nemesis said. -I never wanted it. But it could save my clan. Why didn't they choose one of the fully trained soldiers for it? Why me?-

Istar cuffed him over the head fondly. -Every clan chose their best.- he repeated. -Don't think of winning now. There's damned little chance of that. Just remember what I've taught you and survive. It's quite enough honour to be chosen at all. Your clan will still be proud of you.-

-They never have been before.-

No, he didn't want this, but it had been his dead twin's biggest dream to become His Nastiness and rule over all their people. Since Nestor had died and he'd had to go to the warrior academy instead Nemesis had tried to live Nestor's life for him as best he could. He hadn't been cut out for it and failed miserably most of the time. This now would be a chance to make up for it. If only he could win he'd be a true replacement for Nestor. But of course he wasn't strong enough.

Well, all he could do was give it his best effort and hope that Nestor would forgive him for failing once again.

 

Istar left Nemesis in the hands of his Afrar and wandered off to the gym. He wasn't allowed to watch the tournament, so he might just as well have some fun himself in the meantime. Surely there'd be someone down there that he could hurt and call it a workout.

Unfortunately nobody seemed interested in serious sparring, though. They were all too excited about the tournament that would decide who their new leader would be. Istar played with a practise dummy for a little while, but that was no fun. Dummies didn't feel anything. No matter how brutally you hit them, it never gave them any pain.

So he gave his dummy a last kick, took a quick shower and went to his office to do some work. A pity Nemesis wasn't there to assist him with it. He hated paperwork, especially when he had to do his own typing.

Hours passed.

From time to time someone came by to tell him that so and so had been eliminated and sent to med bay, but he paid very little attention to those rumours. He still remembered all the misinformation that had gone about last time.

Finally, when he was already packing up for the day and trying to remember what was for dinner his brother Irozz came in.

-So?- Istar asked him. -Who won?-

As Afrar of their house Irozz had been allowed to actually watch the tournament so this finally was a reliable source.

-We should have made you our candidate after all.-

-I thought we agreed that I was too much a fighter and too little a diplomat.- Istar returned. He wouldn't have wanted a job that pretty much precluded all hands on fighting anyway. -But who won?-

-You're not going to believe it.-

-Who?-

-Nemesis.-

Istar beamed. -That's my boy.-


End file.
